Chapter Text
If Jungkook had any say in it, Yoongi wouldn’t have been the one standing in front of his battered body. Granted, he’d rather not have anyone see him in the first place, but he’ll take Jimin’s worried crowding or even Hoseok’s panicked care over Yoongi’s silent assessment any day.
His gaze burn wherever they land on, the bruise forming on Jungkook’s shoulder, barely visible through the collar of his T-shirt, the cut on the corner of his mouth, the way his legs lay limply on the ground like they can’t support his body, that he’s kept his hands in his pockets all this while. There’s a sharp intake as if Yoongi only now remembers to breathe. He crouches down and cards a hand through Jungkook’s bangs to look him in the eye. Whatever Yoongi saw there made the steel in his own eyes soften. With a sigh, he swings Jungkook’s arm around his shoulder and helps him up. His hand lay comfortably at Jungkook’s lower back. The younger doesn’t bother walking, just leans all of his weight on the smaller frame of Yoongi’s body, and they stagger away, looking every bit drunk.
It’s not so bad, Jungkook can look for the silver lining. The stars are bright tonight. Yoongi doesn’t seem angry or disappointed, and he’s leading them to his shop. Jungkook has always wanted to see the older man’s shop, elusive that it is. Never would have figured Yoongi would sale instruments in this, less than artistic part of Seoul.
It’s nice. The shop. It’s small but well-maintained, not a speck of dust in sight, and the instruments have a shine to them. There’s a nice smell too, some kind of scented candle. Jungkook relaxes involuntarily. At least, until Yoongi came back after successfully finding a bag of first-aid. The only light he’s turned on casts their shadow in a weird blob. Jungkook focuses on that, not the way his heartbeats chase each other at the cold but gentle hands treating his wounds.
“You do this often?” It’s said as a joke, if the slight quirk of Yoongi’s lips is anything to go by. The Q-tip in his hand presses lightly on Jungkook’s mouth, coaxing him to close his eyes and lean into the touch despite the sting.
“Now and then,” he says and Yoongi huffs something akin to laughter, ruffling his hair, careful to stay away from the bruise on his forehead.